


Better

by LadygoldLoZ



Series: Wildcliff Vignettes and general musings [1]
Category: Trials and Trebuchets (Podcast)
Genre: Deen-centric, Definitely less canon compliant than the last installment also so warnings for that, Except I don't actually know what happened, Flashbacks to Isathel, Friendships Abound - Freeform, Holy shit Ive created a series, Incredibly minor spoilers for Shake and Bake arc, Like so small they're practically nonexistant, Minor spoilers for Food for Thought arc, Significantly less sad than the last installment in this series, Uh coming of age? I guess?, We have to find out at some point, We'd better find out soon!!, Which Im pretty sure I'm still far off so yeet, obsessive readings of minor character interactions in order to characterize Murundeen, right - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23878384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadygoldLoZ/pseuds/LadygoldLoZ
Summary: My interpretation of Murundeen's perspective of the events of the podcast so far. That's...pretty much it. Not technically disconnected to my previous fic but they don't really reference eachother either.
Relationships: It's a work in progress ok - Relationship, Mira Marchand & Murundeen Pure-bone, Mira Marchand/Delnys Raethran (mentioned), Murundeen Pure-bone & Veldon Deeplake, S & W & I & M, ish - Relationship
Series: Wildcliff Vignettes and general musings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720909
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe I'm doing this but hey! Apparently writing TnT fic is my prime method for dealing with school stress. Still trying to figure out this new writing style, I tried something a bit different here compared to the last one but I'm pretty happy with it.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

  
Murundeen had thought school would be different. Better, he supposed. He’d imagined a  
majestic tower, filled with _cheer,_ and _promise_ and _excitement._ On paper, this was pretty  
accurate. Wildcliff was breathtaking, grandiose and certainly a place where excitement and  
adventure was abound. It was filled to the brim with exciting new people who came from  
places Murundeen didn’t even dare imagine, classes and subjects more fascinating than  
he’d ever dreamed, and mysterious passages and secrets lurking around every corner. It  
was _everything_ Murundeen had dreamed of and more. 

Not soon after enrolling, he realized he’d probably been better off never ruining the illusion. 

Because what Murundeen had been forced to learn as he met and shook hands with other  
students in the hall of voyages, as he awkwardly struck up a conversation with Veldon and  
tensely flipped through his class schedule outside of Underbough’s office, was that it didn’t  
matter. Apparently, the problem wasn’t the small size of the Pure-bone clan, or the lack of  
common interests with his peers. Clearly, the problem was with Murundeen himself. 

Usually, people had very consistent expectations of Murundeen. He was stronger, taller than  
most dragonborn of his age, and sometimes harsh and loud. He filled a very consistent  
stereotype, and he didn’t really feel like changing that up too much. _We’re counting on you,  
man._ People got confused, or put off, when he tried to break out from the confines of their  
expectations and always responded in the same way, _come on, talking is boring let’s go  
play!._ He’d adapted, learned what people expected of him and responded so fluidly it almost  
felt natural nowadays. _You’re a big boy, you’ll be fine, right? Let’s not worry for now._

So yeah, maybe he had overcorrected a little bit when he first started school. Dueling  
upperclassmen just because that’s what was expected of him, standing his ground when  
Silvi called him out on it because _a man of your stature doesn’t back down, remember that,_  
and even challenging Integrity because it seemed like the right thing to do. He’d thought they  
were similar, at the time. It wasn’t until far later that he’d noted just how _different_ they truly  
were, how _fearless_ and _strong_ Integrity was compared to himself. How she wore the brash,  
roguish attitude like a treasured ornament, rather than a shield. 

In hindsight, he didn’t know what he’d even been expecting. Did he think that his classmates  
would be impressed with his strength and want to be his friend? His rivals? That wasn’t how  
the real world worked, Murundeen had become very aware of that. People didn’t look at  
Murundeen Pure-bone and think _that guy seems like a good friend._ A protector, maybe, or a  
valuable team asset, but not a friend. That wasn’t where his strengths lied. And Murundeen  
was alright with that. 

Or. 

Well. 

Murundeen was used to that. 

  
Sometimes he takes a seat in dining hall, next to Veldon and Aira and across from Corrina  
as usual, and he feels lonely. He has so little in _common_ with Aira and Corrina, and Veldon  
is a good guy but he’s always quiet, calculating. He has his books, and his star charts, and  
sometimes Murundeen figures Veldon doesn’t need _any_ friends, or even teammates. 

It’s always silent amongst them, during dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, Murundeen sees  
Mira excitedly hold up an embroidery arc and hears Serinepth say reassuringly, “She’s going  
to _love_ it”, as Mira deflates, hiding her face in her hands with an embarrassed squeak. And  
Murundeen has to force himself to wrench his eyes away, stare stormily down at the table  
because he feels so _jealous._ Mira and Serinepth and Winsler and Integrity seem _inseparable_  
and sometimes it’s difficult to imagine what that’s like, but sometimes it’s also _frighteningly  
easy,_ to imagine laughing alongside Corrina and Aira and Veldon. 

He distracts himself by swallowing a fried egg, despite the taste resembling sawdust in his  
mouth. 

He does enjoy the time he spends with Veldon, even if it’s mostly studying and helping carry  
materials. Veldon does this thing when he’s been up stargazing for too long, or is resting with  
his cheek pillowed by a large conjuration book, where he gets, well, _sentimental_ is the best  
word, probably. He’ll ramble on about constellations and their meanings and say strange yet  
endearing things like “Hey Murundeen, d’you suppose the stars think they’re pretty? I mean,  
we think they’re awfully pretty, but maybe stars just think they’re ordinary.” And he’ll yawn  
and Murundeen will remind him that they’re supposed to be up early in the morning. He  
never knows how to answer Veldon when he gets like that. Doesn’t know how to say to his  
roommate how much he likes it, either. 

And then. 

Just like that. 

Veldon is _gone._

Searching through the tunnels with Mira and Integrity’s group is the closest thing Murundeen  
has ever come to his expectations. Not that he’s still not left out- Mira’s comments are proof  
enough of that- but he’s useful at least. The relieved grin Serinepth levels at him when  
they’ve investigated the bird’s nest is a fond memory he’ll carry for a long time, he thinks, but  
he couldn’t stop to _truly_ enjoy it. Not when Corrina is walking behind him, carefully placing  
her feet in dry spots on the floor and shivering whenever a drop of water hits her neck. Not  
when the sewers are so similar to- a _cloying scent of sulphur bubbling in the mud, drenched clothes  
and brightly colored trees and Murundeen thinks he’ll never be warm again-_

Not when Veldon is gone. 

Integrity thanks him for complimenting her and for a second Murundeen feels included in the  
banter as he reflexively dismisses her and Mira glares at him and Winsler and Serinepth  
laugh. It’s nice. 

It’s a bit sad, Murundeen thinks as he heaves Winsler under one arm with a sigh. He’s closer  
to an actual group dynamic with these strangers he’d only met a couple of times, one of  
which _despises_ him, than he’s ever been with his teammates. With Corrina and Aira and  
Veldon it’s only ever been efficiency, what do we do to _finish,_ to _win._ Winsler’s group seem  
so comfortable around each other they’re joking around and running even though people are  
in _actual_ danger. It’s equal parts amazing and frustrating. 

Screw group dynamics and teams, Murundeen thinks as he gingerly rests Veldon’s cold,  
arms around his neck and hoists his roommate up onto his back. Veldon mumbles  
something incoherent and Murundeen’s heart _squeezes._

When Veldon wakes up proper, sprawled on a infirmary bed and rubbing blearily at his eyes,  
Murundeen works up the courage and asks if they can be friends. Veldon looks dumbstruck,  
gives him a confused smile and says “I thought we already were?” As if it were obvious.  
Murundeen has never felt so foolish, and so _relieved_ and so tired. Veldon teases him about it  
all evening, but he makes Murundeen promise to come visit him after class the next day. 

Murundeen decides right then that if he only ever makes one friend during his stay at  
Wildcliff, that’s okay. It’s cloyingly sentimental and he’ll be beyond grateful that he kept the  
thought to himself when he wakes up the next morning, but he’s had a _long_ day and he feels  
entitled to a bit of sentimentality. 

The first thing Veldon does when he enters their dorm is yell at Murundeen for messing with  
his charts. It’s fair- Murundeen had rifled through them when he was looking for clues as to  
his roommates whereabouts. When he explains this Veldon goes quiet. Looks surprised.  
“Well you’re helping me clean this mess up,” he says after a moment, and Murundeen is  
happy to. 

He and Veldon talk more after that. It’s nice. 

Veldon sleeps less. Usually his roommate is fast asleep when Murundeen leaves for his  
morning prayers, but ever since the kidnapping he’s used to seeing his friend by the window, 

immersed in a book or simply staring at the sunrise outside. They exchange smiles, but  
Murundeen still worries. 

Occasionally Murundeen will be back in the bright and the cold. He’ll claw at saturated pink  
leaves and purple branches and he’ll desperately attempt to fire off a spell but the words will  
die in his throat as Aira lets out a chilling scream and Veldon coughs up red and- 

He always wakes up sweaty and shivering, and frequently has to fetch his blanket from the  
floor. Most of the times Veldon is there, hovering with concern by his bed and although  
Murundeen is _grateful_ he can’t help feeling guilty that his violent dreams are keeping his  
friend from getting what little sleep he does. 

Murundeen takes to staying longer in the gym after school hours. He doesn’t leave until he’s  
tired himself out extensively, and not until he knows for sure Veldon must be in bed. Once,  
he falls asleep in the changing room, head leaned against a bench with his towel wrapped  
around him like a blanket. A Jeed finds him and escorts him off the premises with a stern  
look on its blank face. When he gets back Veldon is snoring in his bed. The sight makes  
Murundeen grin. 

He’s on his way back from the gym when he hears it. 

Soft. 

Almost so quiet it’s inaudible. 

Someone is crying in the bathroom. 

Murundeen freezes in place. He knows the right thing to do is leave, let whoever is in there  
be left in peace and move on. Almost without his consent his legs move forward, towards the  
half open door. 

His eyes come to focus on the small, shivering form of Mira Marchand, crouched over a  
washbasin with one arm submerged to the elbow in dark, rippling water and Murundeen is  
_stunned_ because he hardly recognizes her at all. Mira is small, short and petite yes, but  
there’s something about her that makes her look and feel ten times her size. She’s  
impossible to look away from, all bubbly energy and excited motions and dramatic words  
and no matter if she’s yelling or talking there’s always a kind of _melody_ to her voice. This  
Mira is just _small_ and her crying reminds Murundeen of discordant notes, plucked with  
inexperienced fingers one by one on a harp. 

He’s frozen, unable to act. Unable to look away even though he’d like nothing more than to  
walk away and get the image out of his mind. 

“Don’t you have a washbasin in your room?” 

The words leave his mouth completely unprompted. 

Miras head snaps around lightning quick and her gaze lifts to Murundeens. Her face twists  
into an angry sneer for a moment, and Murundeen thinks that for once her anger is justified,  
but then it literally _drains_ out of her and her expression falls to something more despairing.  
Worn out, tired. Her gaze drops to the wooden tiles beneath their feet and Murundeen _thinks_  
he sees a trace of vulnerability but he can’t be sure. 

“Allena’s sleeping.” Mira says quietly, and Murundeen nods. 

“I see.” There’s nothing more to say. 

“What about- ”  
There’s something quietly curious in her voice, and Murundeen thinks he probably wouldn’t  
have caught it except it sounds remarkably similar to his own. 

“Veldon’s asleep too.” He cuts her off, something like a rueful smile playing on his lips. The  
humor of the situation is both riveting and incredibly tragic. 

Mira looks quizzically at him for a moment, then nods. She gets to her feet and Murundeen  
pretends not to notice when she wipes her eyes with her dry hand. At some point she pulled  
down her shirt over her arm, and the soft gray fabric is soaked with water. Murundeen bites  
down the thousands of questions he has, knows it’s not his place to ask and doesn’t want to  
ruin the _only_ decent interaction he’s had with this girl. 

“I should uh- it’s getting a bit late.” Mira’s eyes dart towards a door across from the hall, and  
Murundeen immediately steps away so he’s not blocking the exit. When she starts to walk,  
there’s a touch of her signature dramatic flair to the movement, and Murundeen is _relieved_  
because he had no idea what to do with the worn out, quiet Mira from the bathroom. 

“Hey uh- Marchand.” The words escape before he’s got time to think them through. Mira  
turns and studies him, defensive and tense.  
“You’d better rest up. You’ll need it if you want to beat my team at the Autumn's End  
Tournament.” 

Mira’s eyes flash with something like indignation, and Murundeen feels grateful because  
despite the fact that their arguments are far from welcome most of the time he’s also come to  
respect Mira’s competitive spirit and fiery demeanour. If she weren’t constantly picking fights  
with him, he thinks they might even make good rivals. Friends, even. Though, he thinks, as   
Mira spits out an amused “Don’t underestimate us,” and the melody of her voice rings bright  
and clear as she turns on her heel with a huff, that might still be a possibility. 

He smiles to himself and on the way back to his own dorm he wonders how, even now that  
he has Veldon, that prospect is making his heart race. 

  



End file.
